


Problematic

by tatterdemalionAmberite (amberite)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Community: homesmut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Homestuck Kink Meme, Kankri is a creeper but it's hard not to feel sorry for him anyway, Other, The sex is consensual but the voyeurism is not, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 02:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberite/pseuds/tatterdemalionAmberite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the prompt: "Check out <a href="http://homestuckk.deviantart.com/#/d5gague">this picture I didn't draw</a>.</p><p>Tell me that doesn't DESPERATELY NEED to be written. :o Seriously. You know you want sweet, sexy Latula/Mituna smut as much as I do- and look at little Mituna, trying to contain himself while Tula climbs all over him. His will must be broken.</p><p>Bonus points for lots of Kankri feels."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Problematic

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [(art) "wow scandalous"](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/15548) by HOMESTUCKK @ DeviantArt. 



He shouldn't be looking. He _really_ shouldn't be looking. It's ridiculously, unconscionably problematic. But Kankri can't tear himself away from the window any more than he can decide whom he envies more, or pities more.

He imagines Latula looking at _him_ that way. Even from here, he can read her impish grin, the smug challenge in it -- the way her attention narrows to a point, like a hunter's, as she perches over her matesprit and grinds on him, both still fully clothed --

The game is how long it will take Mituna to stop resisting, how long it will take him to lose control of himself and start reaching for her, start begging, and Kankri wonders helplessly how long he himself could last under that gaze, under that grin, under those hips and legs and oh--

He's watched them play this game before (as if that makes it better) (no, it makes it worse.)

It's not always the same. Mituna has surprising levels of willpower sometimes, but he always breaks eventually. Except for once when he sat there for nearly an hour, just breathing hard and squirming and determinedly looking away, and then he reached out and took Latula's hand and licked her fingers all up and down each side of each one and _she_ broke first, first laughing and then clinging to him, worked up from her own long waiting, and he made _her_ beg and when she did he took her roughly on the floor --

That was kind of an unusual case, though.

It won't be very long tonight - not by the way Mituna is moaning through his nose, the way his claws have torn through the upholstery already and his lips are moving, forming silent unrecognizable words, the way he won't let himself plead with her--

\-- the way he thrashes back against the chair, hanging on, hanging on, twisting and arching, biting his lip and taking frantic huffing breaths, clenching his jaw shut against the desire to cry out--

Kankri imagines himself taking Mituna apart like that, imagines what it would feel like to settle himself over him with that wicked grin on his own face, and he can't help the little noise of arousal and despair that image tugs from his chest. Tries, fails to keep his bulge sheathed. It twines around itself, seeking something it can't have.

No, he would not last long in that chair, not long at all.

Except that he's always too cowardly to act on temptation, at least where other people can see him, and the time when he could have knocked on that door passed him by, sweeps and sweeps ago. The truth is, that oath of celibacy stays where it is because it's _safe_ \- because he's scared what others would think of him, scared to change -

Scared that if he falls, no one will catch him.

From inside the block there's a crow of laughter, Latula triumphant, and Mituna's helmet is off and he's stuttering little half-words of need into her hair. They twist and rock back and forth in the chair, taking each other's clothes off and his hands are between her thighs and she's pressing his face to her chest, yelping and giggling then panting as he licks and nips at her grubscars. Kankri should really, really go, he should really not be looking at this, not now, not ever but he can't turn _away_.

From the angle he can't see when their bulges twine together but he knows, knows that Latula has twisted her tendril around Mituna's by the way she strains forward and her breath goes long and shaky, by the way Mituna's mouth makes a little _o_ of shock, and his limbs tighten around her convulsively as he gasps with desire --

and that's it for Kankri. He's good at staying quiet, very good, and lets only a tiny grunt slip from his lips as his nook gushes desperate release into his pants. The tingling rush of shame is instantaneous, the self-flagellation following close on its heels - oh god, he's the creepiest and most problematic troll of anyone and this is just so very wrong, at least he hasn't even touched himself so it's a _small_ mess to clean up--

\--and the noises from inside have gone quiet and he realizes with a horrible shock that the dizzy moment of release has sent him slumping back against the wall below the window. He must have made a noise, must have startled them. He's too wet and messy to run off - he can't walk properly like this - oh _no_ that's the door swinging open.

"Cronus? Is that you? I told you not to come around here!" It's Latula, wearing her angry face, and oh _no_. Maybe if he stays very still - there's a postbox by the window and it might hide him, he's small-- No, no such luck. "Wait. _Kankri?_ The hell do you think you're doing?" Her tone changes to incredulity.

He doesn't dare look down to see whether the genetic material has started soaking through his trousers or not. Black hides a lot. Looking down hides nothing. But even if he refuses to meet her eyes, he knows he's blushing worse than he's blushed before in his life, and he tries to conceal the fact that he's breathing hard but it still has to be obvious; it's _way_ too obvious that he's been listening, at the very least.

Latula steps closer, still half-dressed, and when Kankri tries to avert his eyes she reaches for his chin and he tries not to think about what her hand was just doing moments before that because if he thinks about it he'll be thinking about it too often for too long. "I--" he says, but he can't continue. He can't even think of an appropriate warning that she could have given, because he doesn't deserve a warning.

She turns his head to face her, _makes_ him meet her eyes, bright scarlet face and all. Fluid trickles down his thigh and he winces visibly. And when she searches his expression--

\--well, she doesn't shut down cold, at least, and that's more than he was expecting.

Then Latula finds something that she's looking for, and it makes her twist her mouth to the side with dissatisfaction, with impatience, and raise an eyebrow at him. "Four words for you, Kankz," she says finally. "ASK NICELY next time. Heh. Oh, I guess heh makes it five words. My bad!"

And she turns away, content to let it be, for now. Kankri lets out a sigh and tries to pull himself to standing, suddenly feeling grateful for the mess of implications that have him reeling: at least they're a distraction from the mess he's made of his pants.


End file.
